Where Angels Fear to Tread
by BehrBeMine
Summary: Spike and Buffy crash into one another, and bring down a house along with them.


Title: Where Angels Fear to Tread  
Author: BehrBeMine  
Feedback: I will give you pie. Or cake. Or pizza. I'll deliver!  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Don't sue, I'll cry. ;p  
Rating: R  
Summary: Spike and Buffy crash into one another, and bring down a house along with them.  
Spoilers: Takes place during the ending of the episode 'Smashed'. I describe the ending scene to start off the fic. Also, words in italics are quotes from season six, scattered all around. They create a mish-mash around the story. I'm trying to paint a frenzied, very much in-motion picture for you.  
Distribution: My sites, otherwise just ask.  
Author's Note: My first Spuffy! Send praise or throw rocks. Go with your gut.  
Dedication: For my girls, Terry and Robyn. I've wanted to dedicate a story to each of you for the longest time. This is for both of you. Cover your eyes at the naughty parts, hmm? Cue Xander: Oh, the humanity!

- -  
Buffy is trashing the place with his body, kicking him, shoving him, throwing him away like garbage. Spike enjoys the torture of the pain, laughing to himself.

"Poor little lost girl."

_How long was I gone?_

He jumps, catches onto a chandelier and uses it to propel his body towards Buffy. He kicks her in the face, sending her crashing to the ground. It feels good. Feels right, to be beating on her, as she is beating on him.

_147 days yesterday..._

"She doesn't fit in anywhere," says Spike, advancing towards the Slayer. "She's got no one to love." Oh, pity, pity. Tsk tsk tsk.

He grabs for Buffy. She rebuffs him, as expected, and pummels him into the rock hard stairs of this house they are trespassing in.

"Me?" Buffy asks in disgust and disbelief. "I'm lost? Look at you, you idiot," she accuses. She likes to accuse others of everything she can get away with. He's noticed that. "Poor Spikey. Can't be a human, can't be a vampire." She's advancing toward him, and all he can think is that he has no thoughts of sending her away. "Where the hell do you fit in?"

_...148 today._

Stung, Spike takes a swing, but Buffy is quick to duck her head. She then continues to beat the crap out of the vampire in black. Always in black, the color of darkness, of bleakness, of an empty soul.

_Is this hell?_

Brick crumbles around Spike's legs. Buffy isn't finished. "Your job is to kill the Slayer. But all you can do is follow me around, making moon eyes."

"I'm in love with you," he says, his voice husky in his pain of all kinds.

_I love you..._

Buffy is convinced otherwise. "You're in love with pain. Admit it: you like me because you enjoy getting beat down. So, really, who's screwed up?"

_...you know it._

"Hello, I'm a vampire," Spike so kindly reminds her behind clenched teeth. Punch here, punch there. None of it stings at all. "I'm supposed to be treading on the dark side."

Tossing Buffy around like a rag doll, Spike delights in the crunch of the walls and the insulation beneath Buffy's slight weight. When he has her positioned below him on the ground, he steps over her body and lifts her upper half up to meet his. "What's your excuse?"

_If my heart could beat..._

"Ahh!" Buffy grunts, slapping Spike's entire face within one hand and shoving him away. He's off of her now, no longer on top, and it just doesn't feel right. He gets to his surprisingly still steady feet just in time for Buffy to launch herself at his body, taking him down.

_...it would break my chest._

They're up against the stairs. Those hard, cold stairs. Those stairs that are like his body, but slanted. Spike grabs a hold of Buffy by the neck, but just as soon as he starts to get a good grip she punches him, pushing him away. He punches her right back. Tit for tat.

"I wasn't planning on hurting you," he says, then adds playfully, "much."

Buffy clenches her teeth. "You haven't even come close to hurting me."

_Everything here is..._

Ooh, a challenge. "Afraid to give me the chance?"

_...hard..._

Buffy shoves him into one wall, and then another. Grabbing him by his shirt collar, she pulls back, looking at him for a split second. As he looks into her eyes, something isn't there. They are vacant. She is giving him a blank stare. It's only for a moment, and then he's not looking at her eyes anymore.

_...and bright..._

Spike almost looks frightened. "Are you afraid I'm gonna -- "

Buffy silences him by putting her lips to his, grinding her mouth into his teeth. Caught off-guard, Spike fights to keep from losing his cool. He kisses her. He kisses her back.

_...and violent._

Buffy's skinny arm is around his neck, and then her fist goes through the wall behind him. And he is kissing her, kissing her...

They're on the move. They crash together into one of the endless walls. Plaster breaks under their combined weight, and still they cling together. It is an ugly kind of primal urge that drives them and creates something close to beautiful.

_Everything I feel..._

A crack starts in the wall, and quickly ascends to the ceiling, widening as it goes. Buffy is grabbing at Spike's lips, pulling his entire being into her mouth, searching for something within him that he doesn't know is there.

_...everything I touch..._

Things start breaking. The house is beginning to fall apart. Buffy pushes hard at Spike, sending him out of the way of crashing pieces of the house. Somebody's home that they are now destroying. Spike doesn't care. He doesn't care about anything except Buffy and her lips, fused to his. In between their two tongues is fire, the flames licking at their teeth and his hollowed-out cheeks. It burns, oh, how it burns, like whiskey, sliding down the throat. You'd think the spark between them would create light, like a match lit on a scratchy surface. Spike sees no light, only Buffy. Only Buffy.

_...this is hell._

She pushes him up against a wall, their lips become unattached, and he looks for a moment uncertain, beginning to pull away. But when she crushes her lips to his again, he has no complaints, and gets lost in the feeling of her again. Perhaps in him she is feeling nothing, but he's feeling enough for both of them. He is feeling everything. Everything good, everything bad, everything not even worth remembering is there, caught in this moment like in a spider's web.

_Just getting through..._

Spike lifts Buffy as if she weighs nothing (which is close to the truth), as she wraps her legs around his waist. He's so lost in the kiss that he doesn't realize what she's doing, that she's unzipping him and pulling his erection out of his pants, and shimmying her own pants down her legs. Suddenly she's on top of him, and she slides onto his aching cock. And they are joined now, truly fused. Together.

_...the next moment..._

Spike looks at her as if in shock, and her baby face looks much the same way. What are they doing? Why are they doing it? Oh, does it matter? Does anything matter but her?

_...and the one after that..._

Buffy begins riding him, slowly sliding up and down, then up and down again. Her lips part, and waver, the feelings in her groin surfacing on a face that doesn't know how to contort. There is no expression for what she is feeling. She looks as though she's on a freefall, careening down beside a cliff, destination death. And she looks so much like she doesn't care.

_...knowing what I've lost..._

Lips meet again for a heated kiss. Spike's cock is on fire, his cold flesh pushed into her achingly sweet core. Her body is bobbing up and down, his cock sliding in and out, creating an inferno between them. The house around them is cool, the air not even touching Spike's body as a sweat starts to form on his brow. Cradling Buffy less than gently in his arms, he turns her around so that her back is to the wall. She grabs a portion of plaster, up above her head, seemingly holding on for dear life as they both fall into one another.

_Isn't that what you sang?_

The house is falling apart, absolutely crumbling to bits and pieces. Buffy's letting out gasps and moans as she continues to ride the dark hero who couldn't save her, and who is witness to her undoing.

Buffy breaks away from the kiss, and Spike's face looked pained from the loss of contact. Breathing hard, Buffy lets go of the wall and moves forward as if she had a running start, her Slayer power overcoming Spike's legs and sending them both tumbling to the ground, to have it hit Spike's back, hard. Like playing on pebbles the size of rocks, unyielding and punishing of those who must be punished.

_How long was it..._

Spike opens his eyes that he just now realizes were closed to look into Buffy's. Ice blue looking into winter green. If his seed weren't so cold and dead, they could have children with turquoise eyes, eyes that could stop a man's heart from ten feet away, put a spell over a parent, send ice traveling on a whim. The turquoise silence that rests between them creates a sort of calm amid the frenzy going on outside their bodies. The house is falling, crumbling, tortured from their wrestling, and ready to die.

_...for you..._

Spike could die this very second and think nothing of it. It's bloody perfect, fucking Buffy this way, loving her with his whole heart while his cock worships her god-like body. She is his sunshine goddess, scorching him with the heat of her words, the bite of her insults, the insulation of her core. Writhing below her, he keeps his eyes open, very aware of the short times when he has to blink or risk tears sliding down his cheeks. He just looks at her as she nears orgasm, straddling him, bringing him home like nothing he's ever seen.

_...where you were?_

"Buffy..." he starts, not sure what he's prepared to say, but oh, **God**, does she ever know how to work it.

Buffy slaps his face, hard. "Shut up!"

_Longer._

He does as he's told, ready to do whatever she wants, for she is giving him exactly what he has wanted for so long now. The love part would make it better, but that he cannot have, so he will accept what she chooses to give him.

_Willow knew..._

Pants and underwear thrown somewhere amid the rough and tumble, the pair is still covered from the waist up. As Buffy slows down on climbing the mountain, Spike takes her top off, and throws it away from them, wanting to rid of her all clothes for an eternity, wanting to stare at her, gloriously naked, struggling for a free moment above him, a moment without consequences and earth, with only blue, blue sky.

_...there was a chance..._

She follows his lead and hastily tears Spike's duster and shirt from his chest, tossing them away, like so much filthy trash.

_..that she'd come back wrong._

He can see her now, breasts heaving in her effort, small curls at her cunt drawing him in. He can feel her now, skin against skin, sweat draining out of her pores and onto his body. He's been with women before, with Dru for decades, but he's never felt this kind of attachment, dangerous in that it leaves him unarmed, unprepared. In this moment, he would do anything for this girl, and he used to swear love would never knock him around that way. But love tosses him wherever it chooses these days. Love's bitch forever. In this moment, he doesn't care.

Spike reaches up, wanting to touch more of this glorious picture before him. He grabs her left breast, massaging the nipple slowly with the pad of his thumb, bringing it to a peak. It's so hard to concentrate, her heat soaking his member, her motions placing dazzling stars before his eyes. But he wants, and he needs, to touch her.

Buffy whimpers at this extra contact, and she's staring at him, staring so hard as if she's looking for something deep inside. Her eyes are empty, but his are not. His are full of the love and devotion he will always feel for her. Full of the regrets of letting her down, of being tossed off that tower and letting her plunge to her death. He blames himself eternally for that, for not saving the Little Bit... for not giving Buffy what she so badly needed to have: a hero.

He can taste the salt of his tears from that day, when her body lay among the rubble, beaten, electrified to death. Bruises formed around her face, and those eyes. Dark purple circles around eyes that were as dead as the heart that no longer beat within them. Her war scars that followed her to her grave. He can feel the gravity pulling him down to his knees, where he buried his face in his hands, crying out for her, for what she means to him, for what was taken away from them both. For what they didn't get the chance to discover.

They're discovering it now.

_But I want..._

He leans up and kisses that taut nipple, coaxing her body along with his tongue that he runs over her collarbone as she bends down closer to him. His finger flows, drawing a sketch from her left cheek, to her chin, to her neck, where he would bite if he didn't love her so damn much. He can see a vein popping there, at the soft spot just behind her ear. He takes her lobe into his mouth and sucks on it lovingly.

Buffy giggles because it tickles, but quickly re-gathers her composure, and continues on her mission to dominate and to finally get something back after all this hell she's been through.

_...you to know..._

Spike continues trailing his finger along her skin that's so pristine, wondering if she tastes like snow. His finger follows a line down in the valley between her breasts, past her sternum, to her toned stomach, and then on to the damp curls beneath that conceal the heat spreading all through him, warming his veins and arteries like a forest fire. He fingers her skin, getting a feel for the course hair, and then seeks out her clit.

Buffy moans, despite herself, not being able to hold back the applause for this maneuver. Discovering the little nub, Spike begins to slowly build circles around it with his pointer finger, circling around and around, perilously close to the center that will take her over the edge. He likes this journey, and wishes to prolong it, but the pressing matter at hand is his cock that is trapped in such luxurious pleasure that he's ready to spill.

_...I did save you._

He doesn't want to leave without her, so he pinches her clit slightly, and then begins rubbing it furiously with two fingers, not hard, not feather-light, but just soft enough.

"Ahh!" Buffy cries out, shuddering in waves. Spike smiles because he's doing this to her. He is actually responsible for those sounds. Finally, she comes, with short breaths that inhale little oxygen, as if she's an Other being that doesn't need it to live. Her inner muscles clamp down on Spike, and as he yells out her name in release, spilling his seed, he looks at her closed eyelids, at her mussed up hair, at her lips that are parted just so, and he knows without a doubt that he's never seen something so beautiful. Nothing like his girl.

_Not when it counted..._

Spent, Buffy collapses on top of him, panting in exhaustion. Spike matches her, breath for breath, more for her sake than his, as these unneeded gulps of air showcase how normal he can be.

He reaches forward to cuddle her close, but Buffy shoves him away. "No," she says, regaining her composure. "No." He pulls back, gives her a look, and sighs when she doesn't see it. She isn't looking at him. She's haunted by what they've just done. She opens her mouth to speak, but the words die on her lips.

"Pet..." She glares at him. "Buffy... Slayer."

Lips trembling, Buffy suddenly gives in, as if she's given up, and melts into Spike's arms. He looks at her, confused, his brow wrinkling, but hugs her close. "I'm so... tired," she says.

_...of course..._

With a bit of an impish grin, Spike gets an idea. He rolls over onto his back, growling low in his throat, like a bear, pulling Buffy's body on top of his. With his legs between Buffy's, he spreads hers so that her calves are hugging his thighs. She looks at him in confusion, but doesn't say a thing. Tired, she had said. Not too tired to feel.

Locking his arms around her slim, naked back, Spike begins moving Buffy's groin up over his, in slow motions, hair touching hair, skin matching to skin. The golden color of her radiant skin looks like a rainbow over his pale corpse, and she shivers like the rain. Her clit is rubbing slowly but surely along his cock, in strokes that are dizzying her senses. Once again, she hangs her mouth open, and it flutters close to shut several times. Her plump lips let forth small gasps of surprise and pleasure.

_...but..._

Spike begins to speed up, Buffy continuing to dry hump above him. "That's it, pretty," he says, confident that he can make her smile. "Come for me, baby, just like that."

"Spike, I..."

"Shh. Just feel it. Can you feel it?"

Buffy nods wordlessly, lost in the feeling of her clit being rubbed, from the softest brush to a strong stroke. Now at a full speed, Spike bucks his hips up to meet hers until her shivering ceases and she moans his name. His **name**. He nearly comes on the spot. Somehow stops himself.

_...after that._

"There, pet." He kisses her so softly, feather-light on the forehead, then on those plump rosy lips. "I love you," he whispers, as if he doesn't want her to hear.

_Every..._

She doesn't. She is lost in her own world. Coming down from her second orgasm, she shivers from the cool chill of the air. Spike grabs his duster and in a gentlemanly fashion covers his love with it. She accepts it gratefully without thanking him, and settles into the floor to sleep.

_every night..._

She's already dozing as Spike curls himself around her, like a cat. He hugs her close, breathing in the papaya scent of her shampoo, reveling in the silk of her hair. He pulls it out of the ponytail and lets the strands spill out over his arm. Smiling to himself, he leans down and rests, at last, with her.

_night..._

Spike and his love may never be enough for her, but baby, having her in his arms like this, well, that's enough for him any day.

_Every night I save you._

- -  
end


End file.
